Untitled Dark Poem #5

Sitting
staring
space
time
lost love
heart rends
tears
drip
drop
birds
sing
sweet
sorrow riven
deep
inhale
long
exhale
let go
leave be
watch
this memory
fly away.
Liar liar pants afire
caught you
with them down
you thought
you could play me a fool
instead
I will watch you bleed.
©March 3/21
Picture via Pinterest

This is not the Last Memory

T and I were arguing last week.
This seems to be a regular thing of late and I get it.
He is almost a teenager and striving to loosen my grip on his arm.
He wants freedom.
I want school work done.
We are working on this.
 
The amount of work that he has not done or is left half done is unacceptable.
And T knows this.
He has been telling me all along that his work is being done.
Well silly mom believing that he could be trusted to do all the work without my hanging over top of him.
 
My teaching is like my training.
Explain it once and then do it.
Hands on that is my style.
I believe you learn faster and are able to make it work in your mind with your own tricks and techniques.
So imagine how frustrating it is to both T and I when this technique does not work well for him.
His wanting me to tell him what to write and say is not a technique that works at all for me.
I have told him to use Google.
Or go and get himself an encyclopedia.encyclopedia
 
It is his reading.
I look at his test and read the instructions.
All of them.     
T stopped after the first item.
Which meant he neglected to read that three sentences were required for each of the 5 words he was to choose.
 
Next up the fact that I cannot read his printing.
At all.
I mean I am left handed and my writing is hard to decipher. 
When I was younger mom use to say that a course in reading my handwriting should be made mandatory.
Only she and my bestie were able to read it without issue.
I still have funky printing. 
And I do have to print because I work with kids who do not know what cursive writing is.
And my co-workers do not have the experience required to decipher my dips and dots.
My N’s look like D’s when capitalized.
Once I was asked who Dik was?
It was an N.ny
 
He asked me what the food chain definition and example were.
I told him I was not telling him again.
That I have now explained it four times.
He was not listening.
 
Look I get it.
I cannot even tell T why he must go to school and learn all these things.
Subjects and ideas that once he leaves school will never be thought of again.
The Ex too struggles because our son is asking him the exact same questions that he asked his dad.
Why are we learning about things that I do not need to know if I am never going to be using them?
And well I have to agree.
 
New Math was created because it is literally memorization.
Not the new but the old math.
I guess someone out there felt that that meant the little critters were not suffering sufficiently so let’s throw in 
seven steps to get an answer that everyone else in the world can do in one step.
I agree it is stupid.
Teachers everywhere can get mad at me but dude seriously…..
5+6=11.
Not 5 and 5 equal 10 and 6 minus 5 is 1. Now add that 1 to 10 and you get 11.
The answer.
Not only did the poor kid have to figure this out he has to write it all out too.
 
T is trying to get me down to an hour of homework a night.
I told him I would prefer he finish sooner.
For I too am being punished with homework.
I too at 48 am reading math and ELA.
Because I have to now be the drill sergeant.
And I cannot watch t.v. as it would distract him.
He never thought of it that way.
 
It would also stand him in good stead to do the work rather than bitch about it.
Yesterday he lolled on the couch next to me telling me about his day.
About everyone’s day.
When I tried to redirect him he complained that I was not listening to his day.
I get it he is not at all interested in doing this work.
But it must be done.
 
I was stood at the sink last week shaking after another morning of waking The Beast.
Once more I had to go in and wake him four or five times.
He refused to shower.
He cuddled the cats.
He told me the work was easy.
The day before he told me it was too hard to do and he needed my assistance.
I was furious.
I may have called bullshit.
 
Me: You know that I am not going to be here forever right?
T: Yeah why are you telling me this? 
Me: I don’t like starting our mornings arguing. I don’t like it when we argue at all.
T: I don’t like it either.
Me: I do not want that to be my last memory of you. 
T (confused): What?
Me: If this was my last memory of us I would not want it to be of us fighting.
T: Are you dying?
Me: No I just don’t like the fighting. And anything could happen. To either of us. 
And I would never want that to be the last memory I held.
 
This is my week with T.
He will work his way through this mound of work.
I have told him that this will occur this week.
For I graduated 30 years ago.
After learning all the normal Maths (you know) and English.
And I refuse to go back.
It’s like the recurring dream I have.
Where I am back in high school as an adult because it turns out I never really graduated.
 
Yeah imagine that one.
Now realize I am living it.
Out of my head.
In reality.
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.memory
 
©March 2/21
Picture is my own
Pictures via Pinterest